Evergreen (52 page)

“I know.”

Nevertheless, he had been cared for most lovingly. That was plain to see, Anna thought with some jealousy. And then: how sad it all was! How hard for that woman, after so many aloof, proud years, to have to appeal at the end to Joseph and Anna, after all!

“What courage it must take to face one’s own death like that,” she had told Joseph.

“We all face our own death, don’t we?”

“Not like that. Not to have to say, ‘By August I shan’t be here; now what shall I do about this, that and the other?’ As if you were preparing to move to a new house.”

Ruth interrupted her thoughts. “As usual, Joseph hasn’t spared anything, has he?”

Anna smiled. No, he hadn’t. He had filled the shelves and closets with books and clothes, cameras, ice skates and tennis rackets. There were a radio and a record player. He had even wanted to buy a television for Eric, although they already had one downstairs and most people didn’t own any yet. But Anna had said a firm no to that. Too much was too much and besides, a boy ought to do his homework in his room and read, not watch television. Iris agreed and the subject was dropped. Often it annoyed Anna that Joseph would take advice so readily from Iris, but when
she
said the same thing he might choose not to hear it.

Eric’s photograph album was open on the bed.

“This is where he lived?” Ruth never brothered to hide her curiosity.

“Yes. Look through it. Eric won’t mind.”

It was a record of his years in Brewerstown, the pictures carefully dated.

“You had a good time with that car we sent, didn’t you?” Anna had remarked of a picture that showed Eric, aged seven or eight, sitting in a huge toy car.

“You sent it?”

“You didn’t know? We sent you many, many things. Your rocking horse and roller skates and your two-wheeler.” Then she had stopped, hearing herself boastful and bragging. But she hadn’t meant to sound that way.

Joseph joined the two women briefly at lunch.

“My son Irving tells me he sees your signs all over Long Island,” Ruth told him. “They tell me you’re one of the biggest builders in the East. Well, I knew you when! That’s right, isn’t it, Joseph?”

“You knew me when,” he agreed quietly, and Anna knew he was amused.

Ah, the sin of pride again! I’m full of it, she thought. But she was proud, proud of Joseph in the dignity of his achievement. She was aware that a rivalry existed between herself and Ruth, different from the ordinary rivalries that existed among all women, whether they are willing to admit it or not. Theirs came because they had known each other so long; they had started out at the same place and edged on parallel tracks through life.

Ruth was discussing the refugees in her neighborhood. “So hoity toity, talking German! They only came here ten or fifteen years ago. I’ve been in the country almost fifty years.”

The Daughters of the American Revolution versus the Society of Mayflower Descendants, Anna thought, amused again.

Lunch over, they went out on the terrace. It was mild for October, the sun just hot enough to be a comfort on the flesh. A flock of crows flew clattering above the trees, and pointed south.

“This brick needs doing again,” Joseph observed. “He did a lousy job. Where the dickens did Eric go, anyway? We were going to buy his football stuff.”

Anna saw that he was bored and restless. “He’ll be back soon. In the meantime, I’ve made Strudel for Iris and Theo. Why don’t you run it over and see the babies?”

“Good idea,” Joseph said, sounding relieved, and disappeared into the house.

“So Iris is doing well? Joseph drove me past her house on the way up. I can’t say I like the style but it must have cost a fortune.”

Ruth’s tart remarks had no more power to wound, poor thing. Anna responded calmly, “Yes, everything has turned out very well for Iris.”

“She certainly wasted no time in starting a family! Of course, at her age, one can’t afford to wait too long. Still, I must say, I was right, Anna. I’m the one who always told you she was going to improve in middle age and you must admit I was right.”

She wanted to say, “Iris is thirty-one, which is hardly middle-aged,” but caught herself and said instead, “I made pot roast for tonight with the recipe you gave me when I was first married. It’s still the best way.”

“Why do you work so hard over cooking when you have Celeste?”

“I just enjoy it. I send a lot of things over to Iris. Theo likes my cooking.”

“You cook when you’re worried,” Ruth said sagely. “I know you a long time, don’t forget. You cook, and I sew. I make dresses for my granddaughters, which they probably never wear.”

Anna was silent, and Ruth went on, “Why don’t you take a trip? You never do any traveling. If I had your money, believe me, you wouldn’t see me for dust. Why don’t you visit your brother in Mexico City? You haven’t seen him in years.”

“Twenty years. But we couldn’t go now and leave Eric.”

“I suppose not. Tell me, how are you going to bring him up? His religion, I mean. What’s he to be?”

Anna sighed. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. Joseph and I hadn’t thought of it, I’ll admit, but it was Iris who said he might want to go to church. So Joseph said, all right, he would take him. And Iris said, ‘You’ll go in with him, of course.’ Well, we had thought of bringing him there and calling for him. But going inside? No. Iris said, ‘How can you let a child that age walk in alone?’ So we took him to that big Episcopal church in town. It was so strange, wondering what any of our friends would think if they should see us, and wondering what the people in the church might be thinking, those who might know us.” Anna paused to recollect. A splendid organ, singing, and Eric’s clear voice. Great decorum, a
high
atmosphere.

“And so?” Ruth prodded.

“It was a very pretty service, Joseph said. I almost laughed. If it hadn’t been so serious and so confusing, I would have. Can you imagine,
Joseph
in a church? ‘Will it kill us?’ he asked me. ‘As long as the boy believes in something,’
he said. But after the first five or six times Eric wouldn’t go anymore. And do you know, Joseph was upset about it?”

“Why didn’t he want to go?”

“He said he didn’t believe in it anymore. We tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t go back.”

“Maybe he wants to go to temple, do you think?”

“We took him there once. And Joseph asked him if he might like to learn something about our faith, but he said no, he didn’t care about that either. So that’s where it stands.”

Ruth sighed. “Well, you’ve got plenty of problems, Anna. I don’t envy you.”

Joseph was just coming in. “Problems? What problems? We haven’t got any. Eric’s a great kid, if you’re talking about him. He’s got guts and he’s one of the brightest boys I’ve ever—”

“Was he at Iris’?” Anna interrupted.

“No, they haven’t seen him today.”

“I wonder where he went? It’s almost dinner time.”

An hour and a half later Celeste came to the door. “Shall I wait dinner? Eric’s not home yet, is he?”

“No. I mean, no, he’s not home yet. Do you want to wait dinner, Joseph?”

“Might as well eat. I’m going to have a talk with him when he does come in. Funny, he’s so well-mannered, so considerate. He never did this before.”

“There’s always a first time. And he’s only thirteen.” Her voice pleaded, but pleading was entirely unnecessary, she knew. For if anyone were ever going to “have a talk” with Eric about anything, it would not be Joseph. He was that soft with the boy.

Celeste served the dinner. Ruth was the only one who ate. Anna began her usual struggle against the sense of doom, the dark half of herself which she had been trying all her life to submerge. Why am I so distressed because a boy is late for dinner? It must happen in thousands of households every night of the year.

“He’s been gone since morning,” Joseph interrupted one of Ruth’s monologues.

“Then why don’t you call some of his friends, if you’re so worried?”

“Who’s worried? Why, are you?”

“No,” Anna lied. “But go call the Arnold boy, he’s the captain of the basketball team. Maybe Eric’s visiting there.”

From across the hall they could hear the murmur of Joseph’s voice at the telephone. Apparently, he was making one call after the other. Celeste brought in the dessert, which Anna didn’t touch. She strained to hear Joseph and couldn’t. Even Ruth fell silent.

Joseph came back. “Well, nobody’s seen him. But there are seventy-five boys in his class. I can’t very well call all of them,” he said brightly.

And a minute or two later, “I wonder whether he could be avoiding dinner with me? I hurt his feeings about the dog, I think.”

“No, no, of course not! And he got his way about it, didn’t he? Joseph didn’t want to let the dog into the living room,” she explained to Ruth, “on account of the light carpet.”

“I should think not,” Ruth agreed. “Carpet like that costs a fortune.”

“Joseph is neater than I am,” Anna admitted. “Besides, I feel sorry for the dog. He hates being left alone.”

“My wife and her animals! I’m liable to find a stray horse in the house some night, too,” Joseph said. He got up and went out again, adding, “I just thought of another call I could make.”

“The real reason,” Anna whispered, “why he gave in about the dog was that Eric said his other grandmother never even minded that he slept on the bed with him.”

“On the bed! Is that quite clean?” Ruth asked doubtfully.

Anna shrugged. “What’s the difference? So now George is allowed everywhere, as long as Eric promises to wipe his paws first before he comes in from outside.”

Joseph came back. “That kid!” he said, and turning to
Ruth, “You know, he’s so well liked, there’s no telling what friend’s house he might be at. Probably playing chess, forgetting the time. He’s quite a chess player for his age; it’s a scientific game, you know that, of course. An intellectual game. We’ve got a very brilliant boy on our hands,” he concluded.

“Of course, of course, Joseph. I told Anna, anyone can see that.”

“So,” Joseph said, “I’m going upstairs to look over some papers I brought home, and you girls can entertain each other. Let me know when he comes in. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. But not too big a piece.” He winked at Ruth. “Sure you girls can get along without me?”

The joviality was entirely unlike him, and it worried Anna. “You go on up and do your work,” she said, “and don’t be upset, Joseph.”

“Will you stop talking about being upset? For heaven’s sake, it’s eight o’clock, and a thirteen-year-old boy is a little late. Honestly, Anna, sometimes you—” He shook his head, took his briefcase and trudged up the stairs.

“Shall I turn the television on?” Anna asked.

“No, it hurts my eyes. The children got me one for my birthday and would you believe it, I hardly ever look at it? I’ve got a magazine here, the last installment of my serial.”

Anna took
The Conquest of Mexico
from the shelf. Joseph had promised a visit to Mexico time and time again. When Eric had been with them a little longer, she was determined to visit Dan. Perhaps during this winter’s vacation; they might even take Eric with them! It would be a fine experience for the boy.

The book was hard going. She forced herself to concentrate, almost to memorize, as if she were going to take an examination on it. Her chair was turned deliberately away from the clock. It struck nine. Or had she counted wrong? Had it actually struck ten? She refused to turn around and look. Her mouth was dry. She was unexpectedly frightened.

“It’s getting cold outside,” Ruth remarked. “Listen.”

“Those branches need to be cut,” Anna answered, forcing a level tone. “They always knock against the window in the least wind.”

She got up and went to the front door. A gust of chilling damp rushed into the hall. On the front lawn the tops of the trees tossed violently against a white sky. At eye level the darkness was absolute. There were no street lights in this section of town; that was one of its rural charms. But tonight the darkness was grim. The wind rushed like ocean tides. She closed the door.

Joseph was just coming down the stairs. “It’s ten-thirty,” he said.

“Perhaps you ought to call the police,” Ruth suggested.

Joseph flashed her a furious look. “What? The police? Why? Ridiculous! What was he wearing, Anna?”

She frowned, trying to recall the morning, which seemed to have been ages ago. “A plaid shirt, I think. It’s hard to remember.”

“The radio said the temperature has fallen twenty degrees since six o’clock,” Joseph said.

Anna was silent. She went back to her book, read one sentence four times without understanding it and laid the book down. In the kitchen, she could tell by the sounds, Joseph was making tea. She heard the kettle whistle, heard the cabinet door click as he took out a cup and saucer. Ruth sat quietly, she who could never sit more than two minutes without chattering.

It began to rain. There were no preliminaries, no first patterings. The squall simply came raging out of the sky and beat at the windows.

Joseph walked in, carrying his tea. “It’s raining,” he said, raising his voice above the drumming.

“I know.” They looked at each other.

“This time I’ll really let that kid have it!” Joseph shouted. “You know, it’s not being fair to a child to let him get away with things. A child needs to know limits,” he said, as if he were imparting some discovery or lecturing a class. “Yes, a child is happier when he knows what’s permitted
and what isn’t. No doubt he’s sitting somewhere with one of his friends, having a good time, not giving a thought to us, how we’re—”

The doorbell rang. Their hearts lurched in their chests. It kept on ringing as if someone were leaning against it.

“My God!” Joseph cried, running to answer.

He ripped the door open to the vicious weather, to the bobbing arcs of a pair of flashlights in the hands of two state troopers who stood behind Eric and the huge, wet dog.

They stepped inside. “Is this your boy?”

Ruth screeched, “God above, where have you been? You’ve frightened your Grandpa and Nana to death, you ought to be—”